


They Don't Taste So Good

by Hock_hug



Series: 52 Weeks of Hockey [38]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:27:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22424065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hock_hug/pseuds/Hock_hug
Summary: It shouldn't have been surprising
Relationships: Joel Farabee/Morgan Frost
Series: 52 Weeks of Hockey [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1122324
Kudos: 24





	They Don't Taste So Good

It shouldn’t have been all that surprising when Joel started coughing up flowers, but it was. His luck was always shit, and his heart was a fickle thing, so when the first pink petals fell past his lips, he couldn’t help but laugh.

\---

It started out inconspicuously enough. Morgan was a sweet kid, a ray of sunshine even, and Joel couldn’t get enough of him. They spent a lot of time together, whether it was in Morgan’s hotel room or Joel’s apartment. Oftentimes they spent their time together playing video games or sitting on opposite sides of Joel’s couch on their phones, occasionally reaching over to show the other something funny. Sometimes, though, they’d have a quiet night in playing board games and Joel would even try to cook for them.

“Can you burn pasta?” Joel looked at the box of noodles, debating whether or not to risk attempting to cook them.

“If anyone can burn pasta, it’s you,” Morgan responded, not missing a beat. “It’s still gonna be better than eating takeout again. No matter how healthy it is, I always feel like shit after.” Joel laughed at Morgan’s pout, and began filling his biggest pot with water. 

Once he set the pot on the stove and turned the burner on, he turned around to find Morgan watching him. He smiled when they made eye contact, and Joel couldn’t help but return it. It left a fluttering feeling in his stomach and a flush on his face, and he knew he was fucked. He turned back to his work, sprinkling a bit of salt into the pot. Once the water was boiling, he added the pasta and began to stir. He didn’t notice when Morgan came up to him, but he did notice when he hopped up to sit on the counter next to the stove. 

“Are you making sauce?” Morgan asked, a teasing smile gracing his features. 

“God fucking damnit. I knew I was forgetting something.” Morgan laughed as Joel took out the sauce and a pan, and it warmed Joel from the inside out. Once everything was ready, he dished them both a plate. They sat at opposite ends of Joel’s kitchen table, so Joel had the perfect view of Morgan inspecting the pasta. His eyes crinkled as he took a bite, and Joel revelled in the way Morgan could look so happy with his mouth full of mediocre food.

“Congrats, Bee. You managed to not fuck up one of the easiest things to make.” Joel scoffed and they bickered over how bad Joel’s cooking really was for the rest of the meal. Once they were done, Joel took their plates to the sink. He wasn’t expecting Morgan to follow him and shove into his space, but he wasn’t upset about it.

“Let me rinse the dishes,” he said, pushing Joel out of the way. “You cooked, it’s only fair.”

Joel ceded the sink to Morgan easily, but he didn’t move far. Once the dishes were done, they moved into the living room to play a game of monopoly. Three hours later, Joel watched as Morgan collected the last of his money and barely stopped himself from flipping the board. Morgan’s smile kept him from doing anything too drastic, but he did his fair share of complaining. Morgan left with a bro hug and a promise to text when he got home. He got the text a few minutes later, and he sent a string of incomprehensible emojis in return. He couldn’t stop smiling, and it didn’t bother him too much when his throat tickled. 

It only got worse though, until he was hacking into his sink, unable to catch his breath. Finally, he felt his throat clear. He wiped the tears that had gathered in his eyes, though he wished he hadn’t when he saw his sink. Stuck to the edge were three pink petals, covered in blood and mucus, but unmistakable. His stomach dropped and he slowly sat down. This couldn’t be happening. He knew it was a possibility, but he never really thought it would happen. It couldn’t happen. Not here, not now. But it was happening. It was real.

He had hanahaki.

He was dying.


End file.
